


He'll Be Back

by orphan_account



Category: Doraemon (Manga), ドラえもん | Doraemon (Anime 2005)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied Relationships, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 01:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6174112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gian always waited for Suneo to come back. But he never did, and the memories of that one perfect night together haunted Gian ever since.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He'll Be Back

**Author's Note:**

> This was a way to vaguely vent about a similar problem I've experienced recently. The good memories have been gone for so long, and I waited so long for my friend and those good memories to come back! They never did, and I wish now that I had focused everything I could on enjoying the good times we had so long ago.

It had been over five hours since Gian had watched Suneo walk outside and slam the door shut after their argument. The framed photograph of Suneo's cat still lay on the floor where it had fallen, in a mosaic of shattered glass.

They had never before argued so violently. It hadn't been a mere disagreement. It was a fight, a fight that neither of them were willing to lose.

When it came to debating, Gian wasn't eloquent or poetic, but he could yell for hours and had fists that could crack a cinderblock. Suneo couldn't accept defeat, but he wasn't willing to accept death either. One option straddled the two. He had chosen to storm out the door and slam it behind him with all the force he could muster.

He was strong when he was mad. Gian glanced up again at the ceiling above the door. Eggshell cracks had webbed up the wall and expanded to crumble chips of the plaster.

With a sigh, he trudged to the parlor and sank into the chair. He was suddenly weak, sore, and exhausted. Every limb ached and weighed five hundred pounds. His eyes were scratchy and dry. He wanted to sleep. Maybe if he did, he would jolt awake in a cold sweat to realize that all of this was nothing more than a nightmare.

Just last night, he had believed everything couldn't possibly be more perfect. He cringed as he remember how distinctly he had felt that impression—that everything was perfect and would stay that way.

The television had been muted, leaving near silence for Gian to enjoy that thought. Rain had pattered outside like muffled applause, punctuated by Suneo's quiet breaths. Gian hadn't savored that peace of feeling as though everything was perfect. He hadn't contemplated that thought. He had been too busy tangling his fingers in Suneo's hair and pasting kisses over his mouth to bother with the less appetizing ideas. Inhaling his cologne. Tasting the faint trace of spearmint toothpaste on his tongue. Feeling Suneo's fingers grasp at his shirt. It had been a blur of bliss that blotted out everything else in the world.

Now, he wished he had mulled over that feeling of contentment. The full satisfaction of realizing that he had everything he ever wanted, and a bounty of more. He wished he had memorized it. How it made him want to smile. How it ignited a warmth through his heart that relaxed him. How it purged away every unease and worry.

Although it had only been yesterday, he didn't understand how he had been so stupid to believe that things would always been perfect. The smile and the warmth were gone. He wished he could remember them better.

He knew he was stupid. He could stay that way. He would be stupid and believe that Suneo would come back. Perhaps in tears. Maybe pleading for forgiveness. Begging that Gian open his arms for him once again.

"He'll come back," Gian said to the empty room. "He'll come back and we'll talk. And we'll make up. Kissing and making up mends everything right quick. He'll come back, and everything will be okay."

Only in Gian's dreams would that happen. And they did happen there, so often.

That all had been a long time ago. The room was still empty. Gian still wished he could remember the smile and the warmth of that one perfect night. More than anything, he missed the warmth. Every day the memory lingered and cut deeper and deeper.

Only in Gian's dreams did he feel any remnant of the warmth. There was none anywhere else.

The sheets beside him were cold to the touch. Deep inside, Gian felt the same way.


End file.
